


Over the Years

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-20
Updated: 2006-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I just finished the final edit a couple of years ago, and I just realised "whoa, today is Viggo's birthday, I am currently in Viggo's birth city, and this fic ends ON VIGGO'S BIRTHDAY."  Well, the coincidence was just too big to ignore.  So here, for <a href="http://nikkie222.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://nikkie222.livejournal.com/"><b>nikkie222</b></a> who requested bottom!Viggo back in July, and in honour of Viggo's special day, my first "real" attempt at Vig/Bean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Years

The first time they met was in the late seventies. Viggo was horribly sure of himself, and when he showed up in London for the first time, a cosmopolitan kid two semesters away from his college degree, he had both ears pierced and a light blue handkerchief in his right back pocket. He wasn't so sure the hanky code would translate to English culture, but it didn't really matter when he found a couple of underground clubs and the beauty of glory holes and people who didn't ask how old he was or expect anything in return.

He bummed around at hostels a lot, occasionally drifting in and out of groups of other travellers, but always the loner in a group. In July, he started noticing one guy, a kid with an rough accent he couldn't place, England but definitely not London, who hung around the fringes of the crowd. He smoked like a chimney, and turned his nose up at the more obviously queer elements. Viggo, who was more than a bit of a hippie, would talk to anyone, but he didn't really identify with the whole camp thing, either. Two weeks after he first noticed him, Viggo was introduced to Sean, and found himself on his knees in a bathroom stall, groaning around Sean's cock as a hand in his by-now-quite-long hair guided his pace.

They didn't talk afterwards, nor did they ever. Viggo started to get a bit of a feel for Sean, a nice enough guy during the day as long as you didn't mention the whole gay thing and at least pretended to support his football club, but also more than a little homophobic and self-deprecating. Viggo respected that, having a small idea of where Sean came from and certainly no desire to move beyond those few satisfying blowjobs in a bathroom or a back alley. It was just a summer, and a fun summer, but it didn't change the fact that Sean was twenty years old and still very closeted, and Viggo had a home to return to in September.

They never fucked, that summer, and they didn't exchange information before Viggo left. In fact, he never would've seen Sean again if it weren't for a certain string of events.

First, Viggo graduated. Then, he decided to go to Denmark on a voyage of self-discovery of sorts. What he found, rather than his inner self, was a string of odd jobs and a girlfriend who could be a bit demanding but kept him supplied in good drugs and compelling philosophical theories. When she went briefly to Norway to visit family, Viggo went to London. He returned to his old haunts, finding a few of the same lads from a few years ago, but no Sean. He fucked around a bit, the girlfriend conveniently not in the country and therefore not his problem. And then, somehow, he ran into Sean.

At the time, Sean was waiting tables at a pub, and after a couple of pints he somehow ended up inviting Viggo back to his flat. Of course, true to form, there was a reminder that it didn't _mean_ anything, and in fact Sean was planning on asking a girl to marry him, ta very much, but it still was what it was, and Viggo somehow ended up bent over the bed, half on his knees, taking it up the arse for the first time in his life.

Sean was surprisingly gentle, but when it was over went back to his normal gruff self, and they didn't see each other again. Sean had finished at RADA and was getting married, and Viggo was planning on going back to New York eventually with his homesick girlfriend. And that, too, would have been the end.

Except that when Viggo got to New York, the girlfriend didn't last long, and Viggo decided to take up acting. After pursuing a similar path to Sean's own across the pond, bussing tables and looking for roles, Viggo moved to Los Angeles and got married. The week before the wedding, he happened to be flipping through the Times arts section and see Sean's name. He was playing Romeo in a Royal Shakespeare Company production, and apparently was recently divorced with a child on the way by another woman. Viggo made a non-committal noise, tossed out the paper, and got ready to say his vows.

For five years, Viggo honestly didn't give Sean Bean another thought. He was married fairly happily to Christine, and busy fathering his son and trying to land film roles while still working on his other creative pursuits. However, by 1992, he and Christine had hit a rough patch and officially filed for separation, and though Viggo had managed a lot of small parts, he had time to go see Patriot Games one evening when it wasn't his turn to take care of Henry.

He almost didn't recognise him at first. Sean had filled out a bit, was clearly older. Viggo hadn't seen him in eleven years, and at thirty-three the other man was quite striking. He remembered clearly what it had been like that night in Sean's flat, held down, biting his lip as he came all over the sheets. He remembered that in the short time he'd known him, Viggo had never seen Sean invite another man up. And now here he was, twelve feet high for all to see. Viggo felt strangely possessive.

Later, he went home and found out, through some indirect questioning of friends in England, that Sean's daughter's name was Lorna and the girlfriend, now Sean's second wife, was Melanie. An old magazine photo surfaced of Sean, naked from the waist up, holding a beautiful little girl in his arms. Viggo remembered practically anonymous bathroom blowjobs, the handkerchief still tucked in his back pocket, and shed a tear or two before pulling himself together. Lorna was already five by now, after all, and Sean's second daughter, Molly, was two. Viggo had a life of his own, he hadn't slept with a man in ten years, and he needed to get back to that life.

The second time Viggo saw Sean in a film was two years later, and this time it was impossible to deny having thought about him several times since. It was Black Beauty this time, and he took six-year-old Henry alone. He didn't even know Sean was in the film, and he certainly didn't know about Sean's successes back at home with Sharpe or in the theatre. All he knew was that he was sitting in a cinema, trying desperately not to get an erection as he watched a film version of a classic children's story about horses.

Next it was GoldenEye, because he had seen Sean in the trailer. He didn't bring Henry because he wasn't old enough, and also because this was getting personal. He sat in the back row, and gripped his thigh until he could feel his fingernails through his jeans. Sean was still gorgeous. Viggo wondered if Sean had ever seen _Viggo_ in his decidedly more modest showings, and decided mentally that he hadn't. That didn't stop him, however, from seeing Anna Karenina. After seeing the film, Viggo read another article about Sean, and found that he and Melanie had recently divorced. It was shortly after that that Viggo's own divorce finally went through.

When Viggo got the call about Rings, he didn't even know. When he arrived in New Zealand, and got the names of the rest of the cast, he was almost glad he hadn't been told.

Sean arrived a couple of weeks after Viggo. When they were "introduced," he showed no sign that anything was amiss, and Viggo figured he had known. When Sean invited him out for a beer the second night, he was almost relieved.

"God, how long has it been?"

Viggo cocked his head to the side. Clearly Sean at forty was not Sean at twenty-two, but then what did he expect? "Eighteen years," he answered softly, matter of fact.

Sean looked at him for a long while, taking several sips from his pint before he spoke again. "You remember the year?"

Viggo shrugged. "It was my virginity, Sean. No matter how unsentimental you are, you remember such things."

"Your virginity?" Sean laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. He looked distinguished now, and Viggo's heart simultaneously soared and shattered to see it. "Thought you were with that girl, mate, what was her name…"

"Not _that_ virginity, you idiot." Viggo rolled his eyes and tried to be light, and Sean's laughter tapered off to a fond smile.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, and Viggo was surprised at the sincerity in his voice. "It was mine, too."

"Sorry?" Viggo frowned, not understanding.

"Never… you know, never _fucked_ a bloke before that. Haven't since." Sean shrugged and took another sip. "I remember the year, too," Sean admitted softly around the rim of his glass. "And the date." They were silent for a moment, and Viggo's fingers were turning white, squeezing his own knees under the table. "It's been a hard couple of years," Sean admitted. "And now…"

"You have kids, I heard. Two?"

"Three now," Sean corrected, looking slightly surprised. "Abby and I had a little girl, Evie, last November. Her birthday's tomorrow."

Viggo laughed slightly, and Sean looked confused. "So's mine," he explained, and Sean smiled and nodded. "So… Abby?"

Sean sighed. "Yeah, it's… rocky, right now. But then with women, it always is I guess."

Viggo barked out a laugh, and the next thing he said was surprisingly honest. "Would be with men, too, if you ever bothered."

Sean frowned. "What?"

"I'm sorry… don't listen to me, I'm… things are weird too, I guess. With me."

"I'm sorry, mate. You're divorced as well, right?"

Viggo nodded. "How did you know?"

"I've, um… followed your career. A bit," Sean admitted, covering his blush with a non-committal shrug. Sean was clearly uncomfortable, but Viggo couldn't help but smile.

"It wasn't official until last year."

"And you have a son?"

"Henry. He's eleven."

"I always wanted a son," Sean admitted, staring into his glass. "Probably would turn out being a bloody queer like his father, though," he muttered.

Viggo frowned and reached under the table, squeezed Sean's hand, which rested on his knee. "Sean. Don't say that."

"Why the bloody hell not?" Sean asked, his eyes a little wild and suddenly focused directly on Viggo. "It's true!"

Viggo frowned. "But your wives…"

"I keep trying, you know?" Sean sighed and lowered his voice slightly, looking down again. "I keep trying to do what I'm supposed to… ladies' man, don't get to close to any one woman, always the charmer. Well it's bloody hard work, I tell you. They don't ever mention that."

Viggo didn't let go of Sean's hand, but squeezed it harder, trying to lend courage.

"I never loved them, Viggo," Sean admitted, in a whisper. "My daughters, yeah, but never my wives… and now it's all bollocksed up…"

"Don't say that. You have time…"

"For what?" Sean interrupted. "I'm not twenty anymore! I can't just waltz into a club in London and pull a different bloke every night. And if I could, I wouldn't want that. I want… oh bloody hell, why am I telling _you_ this? I barely know you…"

"What do you want, Sean?" Viggo asked, softly, meeting Sean's gaze and holding it.

"I…" Sean paused, and sighed. "I want what every woman I've been with _expected_ me to want, but I want it with a man. And that's not going to happen."

"Why not?" Viggo asked, not even daring to hope, but trying to be supportive.

"I just told you why not."

"No you didn't. You told me why you can't pick up twenty year olds anymore. You're not twenty, Sean. I'm not twenty. There are other gay men who aren't twenty…"

"But I don't want… some gay man, Viggo. I never much liked gay men, you know."

Viggo snorted derisively. "Yeah, I know."

"Did you love your wife?" Sean asked, suddenly switching gears.

Viggo nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"You're bisexual, then?"

"Yeah."

"You've fucked guys? Since me?"

Viggo shook his head. "If I recall, I never actually _fucked_ you," he pointed out, smiling slightly. Sean grinned unexpectedly and squeezed Viggo's knee.

"Damn right you didn't."

Viggo smiled and shook his head. "So what now, then?"

"Now? I get a bloody divorce, I guess. I call the lawyers again, and my agent…."

"No, not that. I mean… yes, that, if that's what you want. If you're not happy…"

"I'm not," Sean agreed emphatically.

"Well okay then, you get a divorce, but… Sean… what about…"

Sean stared at Viggo as he trailed off, and took a deep breath. "What about us, you mean?"

"Yeah."

Sean sighed and looked at the table. "I don't…"

"Have you ever wondered what it'd be like?"

Sean nodded slowly, not looking up. "I can't do this, Viggo."

"Yeah? Well I can't not do this," Viggo replied. "So if you want… something, whatever it is, then come back to the hotel room I'm staying in and fuck me. And then we'll talk."

Sean considered for a moment and then nodded, standing quickly. "I'm not… no hearts and flowers, all right? I don't do that sort of thing."

Viggo smirked and shook his head. "I know you don't. Jesus Christ, it's not like I'm out or anything. Can't a man get a closeted late night fuck around here anymore?"

Sean laughed out loud at that, and quickened his pace a little as they headed towards their respective cars. "We're at the same hotel?"

"Yeah. I'm 472. Meet me there?"

Sean nodded, and Viggo got in the car. Only when Sean had pulled away did he allow himself to grin.

 

"So… how do you want to do this?"

Viggo smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. Sean looked almost _cute_, if the word could really be applied to him, scratching the back of his head and wrinkling up his nose as he considered the possibilities. Viggo held out his hands and shrugged.

"If you'll recall, my experience with men is entirely limited to blowjobs on my knees in dirty bathroom stalls in London, and the one time with you. I'm not exactly an expert."

"So? I'd wager you're creative enough."

Viggo grinned at that, and at the mischievous look in Sean's eyes, and nodded. "I can be."

Sean's smile widened, and he stepped forward slowly, his stance a bit predatory. "Lay down. On your back. Want to do this proper, like," Sean suggested, tugging the navy blue t-shirt he wore over his head. Viggo smiled and obliged, scooting his rear back a bit before lying across the width of the huge bed, then propping up on his elbows.

"C'mere," he urged, and Sean obliged him, crawling up so that one leg was between Viggo's, the other brushing the outside of Viggo's hip. He took Viggo's face in one hand, thumb caressing Viggo's ear and bearded jaw.

"I don't know how to do romantic or anything," Sean admitted, his eyes clear and reflecting his own honesty. "But I do like you. It's… different, like."

Viggo smiled and nodded, reached up and threaded his fingers through Sean's hair, his nails scraping the scalp. "Different can be good," he pointed out. "We're not the same guys we were at twenty, you know."

"Yeah," Sean agreed. "I didn't even know you then… I don't know you now… I just…"

"Have a feeling?" Viggo asked, smiling.

Sean nodded. "Something like that, yeah."

"Well, it's just kismet then, I guess," Viggo suggested, pulling Sean down for a kiss.

It was a bit strange, unfamiliar, their stubble scratching as Viggo's hands fisted in Sean's hair and Sean's cupped Viggo's face, not quite stroking but more feeling out the planes and curves—_memorising_, Viggo realised, and somehow that revelation was extremely weighty. Sean was the same person, essentially, that he was twenty years ago, but his body was harder, more defined, more _beautiful_, Viggo decided, with the distinguishing features of age. Those laugh lines did funny things to Viggo's stomach, and the slightly rough texture of Sean's hands on Viggo's face sent sparks to his groin.

They kissed for several minutes, feeling each other out, more determined than they had ever been before in the simple act of kissing, and then Sean's hips shifted and Viggo groaned, his hands tracing down over the hard cords of Sean's neck, the strong back enveloped in thin cotton blend fabric, and finally to his denim-clad arse, gripping and pushing, aligning their groins until Sean too was making little desperate noises into Viggo's mouth.

"I _need_ to fuck you, Viggo," Sean rasped, one hand fisting a little tightly in Viggo's hair. He didn't mind.

"Yes," Viggo hissed, and started to roll over. Sean stopped him with a hand, though, and shook his head.

"Proper, like," Sean reminded him in a whisper, and he bent his head to give Viggo one more kiss, soft and sweet, before his hands went to the buttons of Viggo's shirt.

Viggo gasped when Sean found the hollow of his neck, then the dip above the clavicle. As the shirt continued to open, Sean shimmied down, and kisses met his sternum, the top of a pectoral muscle, the curve of a rib. Sean took a deep breath before sucking Viggo's left nipple into his mouth, and Viggo realised with a greedily pleased shock that Sean had never done this. And then again, neither had he.

"Oh, Jesus," Viggo gasped when Sean pulled a bit on said nipple with his teeth, and then looked up, grinning without letting go, his eyes bright and dancing. Viggo moaned and gripped Sean by the hair, pulled him away and met his eye. "Don't stop," he insisted, breathily, and Sean smiled, nodded, went back to business.

Once the shirt was gone, Sean had more room to manoeuvre, and he trailed his open mouth from the curve of Viggo's shoulder all the way down to the inside of his wrist before darting his tongue out to lick the pulse point. Viggo groaned when Sean took his fingers into his mouth, one by one, sucking in an alternating pattern of pressure and dragging his teeth around the skin. And then Sean's eyes lit up, as if he suddenly had an idea.

Nipping lightly between Viggo's chest and underarm, then moving down to swipe his tongue into Viggo's navel, Sean was clearly using distraction techniques as he removed Viggo's belt and unbuttoned his jeans. Viggo didn't really care, as it was clearly _working_, and when Sean had him completely naked and bit at his hipbone, Viggo's back arched and his cock bumped Sean's cheek.

Viggo looked down, eyes slightly wild, begging with his mind, but Sean just shook his head and took Viggo's hand by the wrist, sucking again on those fingers until they were quite moist, and then nudging Viggo's knees apart with the other hand.

The second Viggo realised what Sean wanted him to do, their eyes locked, and he groaned, never much of an exhibitionist but so _fucking_ turned on by the idea that Sean wanted to see him finger himself.   
As the first finger pressed at the unyielding little pucker, Sean moved to the side, sitting up on one elbow to watch. Viggo's eyes were desperate and pleading, and Sean indulged him in a hot little kiss before pulling away and licking his lips, eyes hooded, looking down to watch the muscles strain and then accept the single digit.

"You liked sucking cock, didn't you?" Sean asked, and his voice was a raspy growl, so unbelievably sexy that Viggo moaned and bucked and another inch of his finger was forced in. "You didn't just do it because you felt like it, you actually _liked_ being on your knees in all those God-awful places, taking it down your throat."

All Viggo could do was nod.

Sean smiled, and his hand sped up on his cock.

"That handkerchief you used to carry, I always figured it was just for emergencies, you know. To wipe up." Viggo watched Sean's eyes, the way his body radiated lust as he in turn watched Viggo's arse swallow up the one finger. Viggo spread his thighs slightly wider, and pushed in with a second. "Some friends were talking about it though, joking… this one gay friend I have in London; he's an American… he told me, light blue, right pocket… you fucking _wanted_ it that way."

Viggo groaned. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice a bit raw. "I liked it," he admitted, and Sean groaned in an echo, approvingly.

"Jesus… so fecking hot, you are. That's just… Jesus."

Viggo moaned and tried to push harder, met too much friction.

"It's not enough," he explained, a little desperate. "I need… want more… too dry…." Sean understood, and Viggo opened his mouth to let him know where the lubricant was. Promptly closed it when Sean shimmied down the bed again, his head moving towards the junction of Viggo's arse and his fingers. Viggo's breath caught in his throat. _He's not going to…_

He was.

Viggo moaned, whimpered, cried out as he pushed up and tried to watch the swirl of Sean's tongue around Viggo's two fingers, getting them much wetter, licking the thin, tight skin that stretched around them as the muscle yielded and gave and both fingers sunk in further. Viggo moaned, and he pushed his hips up, fucking himself now relentlessly on his fingers. Sean sat back up and grinned, and Viggo still just moaned.

"Please," he begged. "Sean, come on, need you to…"

"In a minute. Can't believe I did that, but Jesus, Viggo, you're so… wanton…"

"Not normally," Viggo corrected. "Just… want this."

"God, you do, don't you?" Sean looked a little in all, reached down and stroked the skin around Viggo's fingers with one of his own. Viggo just whimpered, begging with his eyes. "All right," Sean finally said. "Have you got a rubber?"

"There's one in my toiletries bag… by the sink…"

Viggo didn't stop moving his fingers as Sean got up and headed towards the bathroom, stripping his shirt off along the way. Viggo realised, in a little flash of surprise, that he had never seen Sean fully naked, and when he returned, kicking his trousers off to the side, Viggo couldn't look away.

"Jesus… you're…."

"Old?" Sean asked with a self-deprecating grin.

Viggo shook his head. "Amazing. Please, Sean. Fuck me."

Sean groaned under his breath and rolled the latex over himself, stroking a few times as he continued to watch. "You're ready?"

Viggo nodded, slipping his fingers out. "I'm fine. Please, damnit."

Sean grinned as Viggo pulled his own legs back, spreading his thighs, grabbing his knees. "Now there's a pretty little offering," he muttered, holding his cock and lining up, pulling Viggo forward a bit so that he could stand at the edge of the bed and lean over him.

Viggo's moan was long and loud, his head thrown back as Sean penetrated him. The stretch of it was delicious, the burn inconsequential, and he hadn't felt so fucking _full_ in nearly twenty years. "Oh _God_," he exclaimed, and Sean seemed inclined to agree, his muscles shaking as he braced himself on his hands behind Viggo's shoulders, finally fully sheathed inside, trying to control himself.

"Tighter than a virgin on her wedding night, you are," Sean mumbled, only half-lucid, and Viggo barked out an unexpected laugh, his internal muscles clamping down involuntarily and pulling Sean further in. He moaned, and then bit down on Viggo's shoulder hard, suddenly, trying to stifle the noise.

Viggo, on the other hand, had no compunctions about being vocal, and moaned enthusiastically when he felt a neat row of teeth marking him, paired with the slide of an almost too big intrusion in his arse. He arched his back and tilted his hips forward, trying to be more accommodating, his awkwardly spread legs shifting so that his ankles hooked at the top of Sean's arse.  
Sean took the movement in stride and pushed a little harder, groaning unabashedly when he suddenly slid the last inch and hit bottom, his pubic hair rasping against Viggo's bollocks. His fingers squeezed Viggo's shoulders, and his eyes shut tight, gritting his teeth with the effort of holding back. "Fuckin' 'ell, Viggo… can you just… move back a little… oh, God!"

Viggo smiled to himself at Sean's exclamation when he shifted, their bodies lining up at that perfect angle, and then he couldn't help but rock his hips a bit, hands drifting from his own knees to instead clench the tight muscles of Sean's arse and push, using the other man's body mass as a fulcrum as he rocked forward and back, impaling himself.

"Christ, Viggo… _Christ_," Sean groaned, evidently not trusting himself with more words than that, and then evidently growing tired as well of his sudden lack of control over the situation. Suddenly shifting to kneel on the bed, pushing Viggo's thighs back to giving him room, hands on Viggo's shoulders, he pulled almost all the way back from the steadily gyrating hips. His lips quirked up in a smile at Viggo's confused, concerned expression before he slammed back inside, sheathing himself again to the hilt, rocking them both so hard their teeth rattled.

"Fuck! Jesus, Sean, again, fucking… again!" Viggo demanded, his voice louder now, his pleas insistent. Sean grinned, triumphant, and it was almost enough of a trade-off for the painful tightness in his nether regions, the strain of holding back orgasm to fuck this cocky man into the floor.

"Strumpet," he muttered, almost affectionately, blowing a wisp of wayward hair out of the way through the corner of his mouth before he pulled back again, fucking Viggo half a metre across the bed with another jarring thrust. The third time, he held on to the backs of Viggo's thighs, shaking with the effort to maintain their position, and looked down to watch as he pulled all the way out, as Viggo's arsehole went from stretched open to just beginning to close, and then…

"Ahh!!" Viggo screamed. "Fuck me," he added, on a gasp, and Sean grinned, reaching down to give Viggo's nipple an impromptu tweak.

"That's what I was doing," Sean replied, giving Viggo an almost bored look, and the other man just groaned and took Sean's face in his hands, pulling his hair slightly, and slammed their mouths together, beards rasping against skin as they licked and bit and fought for dominance, Sean's thrusts now steady, half the length but nearly as hard, forcing them both towards an inescapable conclusion.

"Take it you fucking…yes, Jesus…" Sean's mutters were absorbed by Viggo's lips, chased away by his tongue, and he cried out, his head tossed back, as he came, Viggo's hand snaking between them quickly to pull once, twice, and then he too was coming, clenching around Sean's dick, extending both their orgasms as he let out a string of incoherent whimpers that might have been Danish or Spanish but Sean wasn't sure.

They lay together for a long time, sweat cooling, bodies sticky and sated and warm, and Sean began to grow anxious, but he didn't pull away. The sun had set hours earlier, and it was getting late, but still he didn't leave. Didn't _want_ to leave. The thought was frightening, and more frightening was the gentle kiss Viggo bestowed on his temple, and the way long arms wrapped around his torso and grounded him. But still, he didn't move. He let his eyes drift shut, and his consciousness follow, and the last thing he heard before he fell asleep was the steady thump of Viggo's heartbeat. The last thing he _remembered_ was that it was Viggo's birthday, and he followed the other man into the dream world with a cocky smile on his face.


End file.
